


The Gift

by ladylaufeyson1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Marvel - Freeform, Romance, Sifki - Freeform, Thor - Freeform, sifkiweek17, warfrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylaufeyson1/pseuds/ladylaufeyson1
Summary: Loki receives a gift from Sif.Loki is terrible at receiving gifts.----A short drabble written for Sifki Week 2017.





	The Gift

“What is it?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Sif said candidly, smiling at her beau as she pushed the gift eagerly onto his lap. “You’re just going have to open it.”

Loki smirked at her as he pulled back the string on the package, ripping the paper slowly to reveal an ornate wooden box. His smile faded rapidly the moment he opened it. Two pristine silver daggers with long, blue-green bases lay across a bed of crushed velvet. The craftsmanship was unique, unlike anything he’d seen, but it wasn’t the daggers themselves that startled him. It was the peculiar metal buzzing beneath his fingertips, calling out to him as he ran his hands over them. These were no ordinary daggers. 

 _It can’t be,_ he thought.

“Are these - ”

“Uru daggers.”

Loki flinched, as though her words had physically wounded him. “Uru as in… the metal used to forge Mjölnir. And Gungnir.”

“Yes,” she shrugged casually, beaming at him. “The same.”

 _Of course,_  he thought. _It was only the rarest metal in the nine realms. Metal from the darkest depths of Svartalfheim that countless men had died for, waged wars for, lost loved ones for. Of course it was Uru. _Stupid Loki._  _

“And you… obtained these yourself?” he said, his anger growing exponentially. If so, she had, completely unbeknownst to him, put herself in grave peril.

“I did.”

Loki slammed the box shut.

“Loki-”

“When did you-,” he interrupted her through gritted teeth, his eyes closed, his nostrils flaring. “How  _exactly_  did you -?”

“Am I not allowed my own secrets?”

“DAMN YOUR SECRETS!” he yelled in disbelief, his eyes rapidly watering in anger. “HAVE YOU NO REGARD FOR YOUR OWN LIFE?”

Sif straightened at his tone. She should have known to expect this reaction, but she had been far too excited about it to think clearly.

“It is MY life, Loki. I live it as  _I_  choose.”

"That is precisely where you are WRONG!”

“I am wrong to live  _MY_  life?” she snapped, raising her voice in attempt to match his, quickly tiring of his mindless ranting.

“YOU ARE WRONG TO ASSUME THAT YOUR LIFE IS YOURS ALONE!”

Sif opened her mouth to retort, but stopped once she realized what he’d meant. For she had felt the same many times when he had gone off to battle or agreed to accompany Thor on some foolhardy errand. She hurt from every injury he sustained, hurt from every blow he ever took, both physically and mentally. She often wondered what she would do if he never returned or recovered, and her thoughts always led her down the same dark path. When his life was in danger, so was hers.

“Let me speak.”

“Were they stolen?” he continued as he paced the room back and forth, his fingers combing nervously through his hair. “Perhaps father can return them straight away without any repercussions…” 

"By the NORNS, Loki - they were not stolen! They were a GIFT.”

“FROM WHOM?” he yelled again throwing his arms up in the air, the veins in his neck prominent. “Who in the nine realms would give up Uru, in ANY form?”

“A family I aided on my last mission to Svartalfheim. Malekith’s lackeys had taken their daughter. I managed to return her home.”

“And they just decided to give you these.”

“There are things worth  _more_ to some than Uru metal, Loki.”

“ _I_ UNDERSTAND THAT!” he roared, pointing first to himself and then to her, his expression livid. “DO _YOU_?”

“I DID NOT KNOWINGLY ENDANGER MYSELF FOR THEM!” Sif shouted, losing whatever composure she had left. “I DID NOT ASK FOR A REWARD, BUT WAS I TO REFUSE IT?”

“YES. Surely someone will come looking for them - or for YOU! Others will know of-”

“No, Loki,” Sif shook her head before getting up from her seat. There was no use talking to him when he was being like this. 

“Where are you going?”

“I will NOT be berated like a child. NOT by you,” she snapped, turning to shoot him a look that strongly implied for him not to follow.

Loki watched as Sif stormed out of the room. He sighed loudly to himself as he flopped down on the lounge chair and put his head between his hands. This wasn’t about the gift itself, and he knew it. She had been gone lately, more frequently than not, and his nerves were starting to get the better of him. Tensions were growing between Asgard and several of the other realms. Every single time he said goodbye to her, he wondered if it would be the last. The daggers were only a glaring reminder of that.

He made a loud, frustrated groan as he stood up and ran out of the room, sprinting down the cloister until he finally caught up to her.

“Sif,” he said, grabbing her carefully by the elbow until she slowed. “Sif, please.”

When he turned her around towards him, he saw that she had been crying, something he had only seen a handful of times in the many years he’d known her. It was agonizing.

“I’m sorry,” he said frantically as he searched her eyes, pushing his hands gently through her hair. “I’m sorry.”

She bit her lip, hoping that in doing so she could stop the flow of tears, but it was no use. She flung herself into his arms, buried herself in his neck and cried uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, feeling sick to his stomach. He smoothed her hair back soothingly and held her close to him, feeling his own tears come. “I am a fool.”

“I am not some delicate flower, Loki,” she cried loudly as she gripped onto his shoulders.

“I know.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know.”

“I thought the daggers would make you happy.”

“They do,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss a trail from her ear to the base of her neck. "I’ve missed you and it has made me senseless. Please, don’t cry.”

“I was in no more danger than usual, I assure you.”

Loki nodded though he felt the need, as always, to be honest with her. "I’ve been on edge with the realms in chaos. I want to protect you, I always want to protect you. None of us are immune from…”

“Death?” she responded bluntly, starting to calm down. “I am quite certain you would still find a way to plague me, even in the deepest depths of Helheim.”

He laughed, and she laughed in return. It felt good. Times were dark and there hadn’t been much laughter or time for it lately. 

“But the daggers,” Loki said, reaching down to take her hands in his. “You earned them. They are yours.”

“From the moment I saw them I thought of nothing but you. Uru responds to those with the gift of seiðr. You were  _meant_ for these, Loki. More than anyone. Your father has Gungnir, your brother Mjölnir. I wanted you to have your own.”

"They are exquisite.”

“And they are yours,” she smiled, happy that he finally seemed at peace with the idea of accepting her gift, one that she so longed for him to have. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” 

They  _were_  exquisite, and that was the truth. Loki could feel his magic connect with them the moment he opened the box. But the power of the weapons meant nothing the moment he realized Sif might have given her life for them. For he already had the greatest gift. He had exactly what he wanted, what he needed most, and that was the woman standing in front of him.

“I can live without a Mjölnir, Sif. I can live without a Gungnir,” he whispered as he pushed her hair behind her shoulders, bringing his lips before hers. “I cannot live without you.“


End file.
